Right Now
by Twi-High Anonymous Challenge
Summary: Edward’s parents don’t approve of the relationship between their son and their daughter Alice’s tutor, Bella. But, as we all learned in Romeo and Juliet, young love isn’t easily conquered.


"**Twi-High Anonymous Challenge" **

**Story Title:** **Right Now**

**Summary: **_Edward's parents don't approve of the relationship between their son and their daughter Alice's tutor, Bella. But, as we all learned in Romeo and Juliet, young love isn't easily conquered._

**Primary Players: Edward and Bella; Alice**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer came up with these characters—I just like to torture them. Crime and Punishment was written by Fyodor Dostoevsky a century and a half ago, and is much less preferable than Ayn Rand. Romeo and Juliet, obviously, was written by the Bard and, while I don't think it's his best work, there's a reason it's studied so many years after it was written.**

_Right Now_

I cover a yawn belatedly, and Mr. Banner spares three seconds from his endless lecture on _Crime and Punishment_ to glare at me. It's not like it's my fault I'm tired. He's the one who assigned the stupid book over vacation—who willingly reads boring books like that over vacation, much less _analyzes_ them? He never said he expected us to return to school on the first day of a new semester and dive right into a discussion of our thoughts on the novel, much less at 7:55 in the morning. That's too much to expect, even from the AP students.

My eleven other classmates are just as comatose as I am, but they're better at pretending to listen, diligently scribbling in their notebooks. I know for a fact that they're faking every letter just so they can avoid his penetrating eyes.

"Isabella, can you explain your thoughts on Raskolnikov's actions concerning Luzhin?" he asks maliciously.

I hate this man.

"Actually, Mr. Banner, I wasn't quite sure what to make of Raskolnikov's dislike. I mean, yeah, Luzhin is an arrogant asshole and all, but there are plenty of people like that. Personally, I think Rodya is a little bit like him in that way," I ramble, hoping he'll stop me, tell me I'm being foolish, and then proceed to give us the 'correct' answer—read, his answer.

As expected, he proceeds to tell me to shut up and then goes off on some tangent about why women carry flowers during a wedding ceremony.

The bell rings out over the school, freeing us from his lecture and his arrogance. I stand, sling my bag over my shoulder, and head toward the door eagerly. As I round the doorframe, I find myself chest to chest with a student from his next period. I stumble back, and two hands close gently around my forearms to steady me, fingers soft against the revealed skin. When I look up, I about have an aneurism.

Edward-_fucking_-Cullen is standing in front of me, one auburn eyebrow lifted over chips of cold sea-glass. His hands slowly pull back from me.

"Watch it," he mutters, brushing past me once he's sure I'm upright.

I stand stupidly in the middle of the walkway, face screwed up in confusion. _Really, Cullen, really?_

"Was that Edward?" Jessica asks as she appears at my elbow, craning her neck around the doorframe to glance inside after him.

"Unfortunately," I sigh, rolling my eyes and finally recovering the use of my body. I adjust my bag and start walking toward Calculus.

"I still don't understand why you guys stopped talking? Three months ago you were text-flirting and making kissy faces at each other every day," she says, catching up with me again.

"Don't remind me," I groan. "In my point of view, that never happened. 'Kay?"

Jess looks at me skeptically, and then shrugs. A grin fights to subdue itself at the corners of her mouth, and I know what's coming before the words are out. "_Sooo_… since you're determined to forget you ever had in interest in him, do you mind if I go after his delicious ass?"

"No, I don't care. Go ahead," I mutter, turning into a different wing of the school and heading up a flight of stairs.

"You know I was teasing, right? I don't do sloppy seconds," she says, and I finally smile at her over my shoulder—she's grinning at me, half-serious.

"I mean it, I'm done with him. He's all yours if you want him, Jess," I promise. "I won't be mad at you, I swear."

"Well…" She thinks about it for a few moments as we take our seats at our usual table in the back of the classroom. "I don't know if I really want to take that chance. I mean, he was _totally_ into you for a while, and then suddenly he dropped you like you'd grown a penis or something."

I snort at her explanation. "Seems that way. Minus the male genitalia."

"Mike and I are still on really good terms, though, you know? Edward just makes breaking up so awkward, and I don't _do_ awkward. So maybe I'll just leave it off. Plus, he'd have to be interested in me too, and he seems wrapped up in himself right now. He kind of always has been, hasn't he?" she muses.

"Definitely. I don't know what I saw in him," I say, and open my notebook, uncapping my pen and setting it down next to my mechanical pencil.

"Anyways, moving on. Did you hear about Lauren and Eric?"

I lift a curious eyebrow at her and gesture her to go on. She tells me the whole story about how Lauren got drunk at Tyler's party, which Eric had crashed, and she pulled him into the closet thinking he was Tyler, proceeded to deflower the poor boy while calling him Tyler, and then stumbled out of the closet half-clothed to a camera phone in her face.

I laugh and bite my hand to keep it quiet; Jessica is gasping under her breath, head on her arms, hand weakly hitting the top of our table. When we realize Eric is sitting in front of us and take in how red his ears are, we finally become noticeable enough for Mr. Varner to threaten us with detention and promise to move our seats around: he'll forget before fourth period.

We split up after sitting through a lecture on derivatives and curve sketching—Jess slaps my butt as I walk away, and I blush when Aaron Sanders smirks at me suggestively. I don't need any more immature boys after me.

Alice Cullen is sitting in HomeEc when I walk in, bouncing on a countertop in my group's kitchenette. I wave, and she slides off the counter and stalks toward me. "Are you coming over today?"

"Depends—is your douche of a brother going to be there?" I ask, dumping my stuff on the scuffed tile under our feet.

She rolls her eyes. "Who cares? He stays in his half the house anyways. Like he ever leaves that piano bench of his?"

"True," I concede. "Okay, I'm game. I'll be over at around four thirty?"

"Good. See you then," she chirps, smiling gaily before she bounds across the room to her own group.

Alice Cullen is Edward Cullen's younger sister—we're good friends, even through everything between her brother and me. She is an aesthetic and philosophical girl with too much spunk and forwardness to please her family—not that her parents are mean or anything. I like Esme and Carlisle. They're just very… formal. And a little frosty. Like Edward, at times. Alice is the flame, black sheep, and star of the Cullen Clan.

I feel a little guilty sometimes. I hate keeping secrets from my friends. Jessica is often a necessity, so I don't feel as bad about her—she can't hold secrets as well as she holds her liquor; she's not malicious, just talkative and slow sometimes. Alice, however, will take any secret to the grave if it won't literally kill someone. But this time, it's not in my best interests to share with her.

School passes too quickly for my liking, and I'm growing more nervous as the day goes on.

In biology, Edward glares at me again from his spot next to me, and I flip him the bird. Eloquent and simple, mincing unneeded words and miscommunication. That's me.

I wait for Alice to leave after school before I finally sneak down the steps to the parking lot. Tyler grins at me across the lot, and I remember Lauren, who I can see slinking to her car with her hood up. As if she's not recognizable by the mini-skirt she's wearing. I smile a little at this, wave at Tyler, and pretend to go through my bag for something while standing next to my truck.

Someone knocks into me from behind, and I take the effort of dropping my bag and letting a few papers spill out to hide the one dropped from behind me. I glare at the sound of Mike's laughter, and he shrugs at me from three cars over, grinning.

I climb up into my truck after gathering my crap and then sit there sorting my papers into their proper piles—English, creative writing, government, er… gossip, garbage. Finally there is only one slip of paper left in my hand—a small piece torn out of a notebook with a green plastic cover, the number 180 colored in with black Sharpie in my memory.

_Left on the highway, four blocks, turn right, right on fourth street, left at next street, at the park. Walk down the path. _

I swallow, take a deep breath, and start my truck, setting the directions in a cup holder next to the FM transmitter that hooks my iPod up to my stereo, the only new thing about this beast. Heat blasts a few of the loose strands of hair away from my face, and the cab is suddenly filled with Ke$ha's poppy techno dance beats. Not usually my cup of tea, but it was energetic this morning, and I was totally dead.

The parking lot is mostly empty by the time I'm finally ready to leave, which means there isn't a line to get out. Thank God.

I gun the engine as I hit the highway, and my truck grumbles loudly in protest before subduing its displeasure and dealing with it. The directions aren't exactly clear, but I know the place. Forks is simple and living there for even three years has left me with a passable knowledge of almost every inch, even those inches inside the houses.

There's a car parked down the street from the park; I pass it and turn at the end of the street, parking my truck on the opposite side of the road a quarter mile or so from the other vehicle.

My hands clench and unclench nervously, and I grab my iPod, jacket, and keys before sliding out onto the street. I quickly run to the park and hope I've avoided notice as I start down the path to the left of the swing-set.

He's waiting, leaning against a tree with his head thrown back, a mile down the trail. The profile of his throat and jaw makes me swallow harshly, and I speed up until I'm standing in front of him. He lowers his gaze to mine and we stand silently, motionlessly, for a moment.

"Hey," he finally says, lifting his hand to cup my face and pulling me in for a kiss. It's soft and sweet at first, until we're open mouthed and panting, hands greedily clutching jackets and belt loops in desperate attempts to draw our bodies closer together.

"Hey," I gasp as he finally frees my mouth; his lips trail over the sensitive spot just under the corner of my jaw, and I clutch at his shoulders as I shiver against him, inhaling clove and cinnamon and musk.

"Sorry I was such a jackass today," he breathes into my neck.

I draw back just enough to look into his eyes—they're regretful and molten, not the cold chips of glass I'd encountered all day. "Are you parents still pissed at you?"

Edward nods regretfully, his hands ghosting under my jacket and shirt, over bare skin. Goosebumps flare under his fingertips as if by magic.

"I still don't understand why they're so opposed to the idea of us," I say quietly, brushing a loose strand of hair out of his face, sad and nostalgic for the time three months ago when I could do this quite frequently, no matter who was watching.

"Because they think of you first and foremost as Alice's friend, and I've screwed up her life enough. They don't want you choosing me over her and fucking her over yet again," he explains patiently. I've heard this so many times now that I can quote it with him if I so desire. I still don't think it's the entire reason Esme and Carlisle are opposed to me.

"How long are we going to hide this?" I ask, looking down and withdrawing my hands to pull at the strings of my hood.

"Until I can talk them into listening to us," he says gently, nudging my chin up again to kiss me. "I'm letting them cool down. If they're calm again by next week, I'm planning on bringing it up on Tuesday night when my Mom's at the school board meeting—Dad isn't _as _protective of Alice as Mom is. But I'll try. One at a time. If I can get Carlisle on my side, Esme might be easier…"

"I'm coming over to hang out with Alice later. I'm supposed to be there at four thirty," I say, looking around us.

There's a fallen tree a few feet back in the foliage, and I pull away from him, taking his hand and dragging him over to it. He straddles the trunk and I sit between his legs, facing him, hands still twined together like the vines that hang down from over our heads.

"Hmmm. I miss you," he admits, smiling self-consciously. "And I know I sound like a sappy chick right now, but it's true. I hate having to hate you at school." I laugh suddenly, and he rolls his eyes, smirking. "What?"

"I told Jessica she could take a pass at you, earlier today," I tell him, fighting off laughter.

"Bella!" Edward looks frightened at the prospect of my friend being after him. I hope I'm nearby to see his face when she actually revokes her verdict today and approaches him about a date of some kind. "_Why?!"_

"Sorry," I giggle. "She kept asking what happened between us. It was the easiest way to get her off my back. Then she claimed she 'doesn't do awkward.' So I think you're safe."

"I'm not awkward," he argues feebly, grinning. "If I'm so awkward, then why are you here with me now?"

"I pity you," I quip immediately. He unlatches our fingers, and I think he's going to get up until I feel his hands just under my ribs, tickling.

"Not fair!" I gasp around hysterical laughter, writhing to get away. "Truce, truce!"

"Admit that I'm not awkward," he orders, glaring playfully, hands still curled around me.

"I-I'm not awkward," I say, smiling. His fingers dance across my skin again, and I shriek. "Okay! You're—you're not—a-awkward!"

Edward laughs and scoots back on the tree trunk, letting me fix my clothes. "That's what I thought."

I smile and tuck my hair behind my ear before reaching into my pocket and pulling out my iPod. "Yours or mine today?"

"Yours," he answers, and I unwrap the white headphones from the case covering my iTouch.

"Here." He takes the right headphones and holds out his arms for me. I turn and lean back against his chest, reveling in the warmth of his arms wrapped around me as Ra Ra Riot fills my ear.

"So, how was your day?" he asks, propping one of his Converse-clad feet up on the tree trunk. I sling my leg over his thigh and run my fingers up and down the dark denim covering his skin.

"Fine. A little boring, definitely tiring. Do you know anything about _Crime and Punishment_? I was supposed to read it over break, but I was reading your Christmas present instead," I tell him accusingly, teasing.

He chuckles. "And what did you think of _The Fountainhead_? Much better than Dostoevsky, wasn't it?"

"Yeah—I really liked her style. And she has this brilliant way of getting everything you need to know about a character into one small paragraph. It was honestly amazing. Do you have _Atlas Shrugged_?"

"Yeah. I'll leave it on a table later tonight—you can grab it on your way out the door," he says, sighing a little.

I remove my hand from his leg and trace his forearms instead, hoping to comfort. I know he wishes I could just visit his room and get it there. I know he wishes we were in his room right now. It's too cold out here to do what we might have been warming up to earlier.

"Okay. How are you? How was your break?"

"Alice got me a giant stuffed rainbow unicorn for Christmas," he admits, and I have to laugh, despite the gray that has descended on us already. There are few moments we have together that remain in color since our 'break up' last November.

"She would. What'd you get her this year?"

He grins, and I smile with him, unable to help it. "Call of Duty."

"_Nice_," I drawl. "I'm sure she _loved _that."

"I woke up the next morning with a sparkly rainbow octopus next to me. She felt that my gift was too expensive compared to hers, so she added on."

I kiss his jaw and glance at the time on my iPod. I have fifteen minutes until I need to leave for their house. I sigh.

Edward's arms tighten around me and he tucks his head into the junction of my neck and shoulder, breath hot against my skin. "I hate this," he whispers.

"Me too," I agree, just as quietly. "It's not the way it should be, the way it was in October. Do you remember?"

"Do I remember? Bella, I can't forget it. I miss having a smile on my face all the time, I miss being able to hold you at school, I miss seeing you in my room, sprawled across my bed with a huge goofy grin on your flushed face," he groans. "I miss being able to show you all the things I love about you."

I shiver against him. "I miss all of that, too. And, Edward, I love your parents, but I hate that they're causing this."

We sit quietly for a few minutes, wrapped around each other, thinking and remembering.

I finally break the silence. "What are you doing Saturday?"

"I'm supposed to be in Port Angeles with Jasper. And you?"

"I'm going dress shopping with Jessica in Port Angeles. If we make up some excuses, we can do something that night," I murmur.

He breathes in deeply, and nods against me. "I'll be done by six. Where do you want to meet tomorrow? I don't want to chance someone seeing us sneaking around."

"That old barn a few miles out from town?" I suggest. "It's warmer, and dry inside, and there's still straw on the floor, and an old blanket I dropped off last weekend."

He laughs, and I can feel it in my chest, pressed as I am against him. I smile too. "Good idea. It's things like this that I love about you."

My stomach flutters a little, and I tame it as I turn to face him. "I should probably go now," I say regretfully.

He nods, frowning slightly, lips pouting slightly, jaw set. "Probably. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yeah, three thirty at the barn," I say, staring at the green of his irises.

"Alright." He kisses me then, and we take up a good five minutes generating heat that has nowhere to go and dissipates three inches from our skin. I brush my hands through his silky damp hair as I stand up, and he runs his hands down my sides, pulling me forward again to kiss my stomach. "Good night, Bella."

"'Night," I whisper, touching his lips lightly before I turn to go.

***

Alice is waiting at her doorstep when I pull up in front of the Cullen house. She immediately latches onto my side, tugging at my sleeve impatiently. We make it halfway to the stairs before we're interrupted .

Esme sticks her head around the doorframe of the living room, a polite smile on her face. "Hello, Bella. It's good to see you again. Are you here to tutor Alice?"

I want to snap at her; I want to hate this genteel looking woman. I don't, and I can't.

"Yeah. I think she wants to talk a little after," I say, fidgeting with my bag.

She nods her approval, and Alice tugs me up one half of the massive two-winged staircase.

The Cullens come from money. They'd been here long before I ever moved in with my father. I hadn't befriended either of their children immediately—Edward was always surrounded by the musicians, actors, and baseball players, while Alice found her place in the artists and, occasionally, the stoners.

It was only last year that we all really took any notice of one another—Alice's failing grades in English and history were an 'embarrassment' to her parents, who called the teachers to ask for tutors. They were delighted to hear both teachers recommend a single student—one Bella Swan.

I started tutoring Alice second semester of junior year—at first we didn't get along. I was too quiet, she was too loud; I was patient, but she found ways to test me; I loved Converse and jeans, she preferred either bohemian or 5th Avenue styles; I liked Byronic heroes and romanticism, she enjoyed philosophy and ideas; I listened to Bat for Lashes and Kings of Leon, she danced to Lady Gaga and Rihanna.

It was one night when she upset me enough to leave me in angry tears that Edward and I found each other. I told Alice we were having a break from studying for a half hour and went out to sit on the porch. Edward had opened the door ten minutes later, tripped over me, and stared at me from the ground below the steps for a full thirty-four seconds. I know, because I stared back at him the entire time.

He'd sat up, then, and smiled the crooked smirk that could rule the school, extending a large boyish hand to me with an introduction. We hit it off immediately—he'd asked what I was listening to on my iPod, disagreed with my choice, and it had progressed from there. Alice found us forty minutes later, laughing and arguing on the front porch; I'd hopped up as if burned, and Edward had looked at his sister with annoyance.

Alice relaxed after that—later, she would tell me that she thought I was too stuck-up and shy when we first met. When I started talking with Edward, I 'took the stick out' of my ass, in her words. We finally started understanding each other, and even progressed to close friends. The Cullens paid me for tutoring—they could afford to, and I couldn't turn down the money I needed for gas and my college fund.

But that was all Esme and Carlisle expected of me. I was to be a hired teacher to their daughter, and nothing more. I was, after all, of a lower class—I lacked the Jackson Pollack art in the foyer. Hell, I lacked a foyer in the first place. I was unsuitable for a friend to either of their children, for I would be going nowhere in life and could be of no benefit other than academic help.

Of course, parents can't exactly choose friends for their children. They were forced to accept me when Alice put her size five shoe down flatly and loudly, rebelling as she was so prone to do. She was their angel, their preferred child, and they let her get away with almost anything.

But when they finally found Edward and I tangled in each other on his bed last November, they'd blown a fuse. They'd actually threatened to cut Edward off if he didn't 'end it' with me; he'd wanted to rebel, but I'd forced him to accept it. I wouldn't separate him from his family.

A measly three days later, we were meeting in secret in the janitor's closet at school and planning our secret rendezvous. Even Alice had no idea that we were still sneaking around. She'd asked if I was over her brother, and I'd proclaimed him a douche in front of her, satisfying her. As far as she was concerned, he'd broken up with me because I refused to put out.

She didn't exactly know the conditions in which her parents discovered us that afternoon.

Alice drags me upstairs and into her room, leading me toward her bed and the pillows surrounding it. "English?" I ask, dumping my stuff on her floor and stretching my arms above me. My back crackles like a firework, and Alice makes a face.

"No way. Yoga first. You sound gross."

I have to laugh, which makes it difficult as she forces me into the camel pose. She rolls her eyes and joins me for a few minutes of stretching and relaxing.

Once she deems us fully energized, she finally sits up and smiles at me. "Okay, English," she agrees.

As I explain why _Romeo and Juliet_ is a staple in high school classrooms around the US, she interrupts me with questions about the characters, plot, and even whether I prefer caramel or cheddar popcorn—caramel, incidentally.

Tutoring Alice is a challenge—her attention span only lasts about ten minutes at a time before she's distracted, and it takes a hell of a lot of conversation steering to get her back on topic. However, she understands things perfectly when she isn't high—today is a lucky day, and she is lucid as the clear blue skies I'd left behind in Phoenix.

Once we've finally read over the first two scenes of R&J, she finally flops back on her bed, and I know she's reached her limit for the day. I close my own book, creased and highlighted and annotated as it is, and crawl up on the bed beside her, reveling in the softness of her mattress.

It brings another bed to mind, and I'm suddenly annoyed that I'm not across the house in a different room with a different Cullen child. I listen sharply and can hear a few stray notes from the piano; I relax at the sound and smile at Alice.

"So, I'm guessing Jessica already told you about Lauren?" she asks me curiously, rolling onto her side and then into yet another yoga pose.

"Yeah, in second period," I answer, yawning and stretching out fully on my back. "Why?"

"Oh, it's the newest piece of gossip. Though there are a few rumors that might have popped up today after school…" Alice trails off, and I wave a hand at her to go on. "Mike thinks you and Edward are still going out," she blurts.

My eyes snap open and I sit up so fast that black dots overtake my vision. "What? _Why_?"

"Because he says Edward passed you a note after school and then he followed you to some park where Edward's care was parked in front of," she says, looking at me shrewdly from the corner of her too-blue eyes.

"That's… That's absurd!" I snap, seeing red now. I hop off of her bed and start pacing. It may look like annoyance to Alice, but my nerves are suddenly too haywire to continue sitting.

"That's what I said! He's making shit up again, trying to start some drama. You hate Edward, and he's being good for once. He hasn't even gotten in trouble for fighting anyone at school lately. Mom's considering raising his allowance back to 250 a week."

"Of all the…" I trail off angrily, and kick one of her stuffed animals.

"Hey, respect the lizard," she scolds, sliding out of an upward dog to cradle the wounded creature.

"Sorry," I mutter. I pace for a moment more and then sigh. "I want to kick Mike's ass." _For being such a nosy little rumor-starting bitch. Shit, Jess will know by tomorrow. I'll just have to keep lying._

"You and me both. Want to bet Edward actually will? He hates it when you're brought up," she tells me, snickering.

We quiet down again, and she follows me back and forth across her carpet.

I can hear the piano still, and now I can detect the irritation in his playing—he's heard already. I wonder if this will set us back again. I wonder how Esme and Carlisle will take it once they hear the rumor.

I sigh and pull on the ends of my hair. "Alice, I think I'm going to head home now. I'm useless now—I'll just be thinking of Mike and how to get him back all night."

"I can help, if you want," she volunteers.

I have no doubt that she can.

But I really just want to go home and wallow and miss Edward.

"Nah, I gotta do this by myself. I'll see you tomorrow?" I ask, picking up my stuff.

"Yeah, HomeEc. Remember to bring sugar for your group," she reminds me, standing up on her bed and flinging her arms out. "Hug!"

I roll my eyes, but give in and squeeze her tiny body. "Bye, Alice."

"Remember to tell Mom you're going so she can pay you," she says before jumping back down onto her bed and pulling out a sketch board.

I wave one last time and shut the door behind me. I hover in the hallway, debating, and then turn in the opposite direction of the stairs, sneaking farther into the house. I slip through the cracked door to the upstairs entertainment room and run across the room on my tiptoes to where Edward's hands flow over the ivories.

"Did you hear about Mike?" I hiss, looking over my shoulder as I stand restlessly behind him.

"Yeah—should we postpone tomorrow so he can't follow us again?" he asks me, annoyance and sorrow deepening his voice.

I bite my lip and reach out to touch his tense back. "Maybe we should… maybe we should just ignore it. Who cares if it comes out?"

"You do," he reminds me, finally turning to face me. Storms brew behind his green eyes, sparks flashing darkly. "Remember? I offered to give all of this up for you. The offer still stands."

"Edward…" I trail off, conflicted. "I want you, really, but… I can't ask you to give up your family or your money or your future for me."

"You can ask. I wouldn't be giving up anything. They'd forgive me in two months at the most; I have enough money in my bank accounts to tide me over for almost a year. I'm a legal adult and I can do whatever the fuck I want to do," he says angrily, standing up and pacing away from me. "I'm sick and tired of their fucking rules. They don't even _know _you the way I do, or even the way Alice does. All they see is—"

"That I'm poorer than you," I supply. "Right? That's their main issue, isn't it?"

He stares at me for a moment, eyebrows drawn together, jaw clenched in a way that might normally make me stutter. "Yeah."

I nod, nails digging into my palms. "I already knew that—I mean, they care that Alice has me as a friend, but dating you won't do anything to jeopardize that. Fuck, they already forced us to 'break up' and I'm still friends with Alice. Do they think that breaking up for ourselves will make me hate Alice more than her parents forcing me to end the thing that makes me happiest?"

"I don't know, Bella," he sighs, shoulders slumping before he straightens up, eyes glinting with a resolution. "All I know is that I hate this. Really. I've already told you that so many times, but it doesn't help. I just want… I don't give a damn what my parents say about us anymore. As soon as you say the word, I'll march down there right now and tell them to shove their rules up their ass and call me once they've accepted the fact that I want to be with you."

We stand across the room from each other, watching, and I finally take a deep breath and nod. "I'm sorry for being so selfish, but…"

"Alright," he says, and he's calmer now than he has been for the past two months. "You might want to clear out first… I'll text you later."

I bite my lip and adjust the strap of my bag. "Are you sure?"

He rolls his eyes, and a smile starts to form on his face. "Positive." In three large steps, he's standing in front of me, hands cupping my face as he bends down to kiss me. "You're better than anything they have to offer. I'm suffocating here."

I finally manage to disentangle myself from his grasp, and I turn toward the door only to stop abruptly.

Esme is there watching us, arms crossed, parental disapproval out in full force.

Edward takes a deep breath behind me, and then moves in to touch my lower back, bracing himself. "How much did you hear?"

"All of it—I watched Bella walk in here," Esme says, tone clipped, eyes sharply focused on her son.

"Good. I'm going to go pack my stuff," Edward says, and I can hear him swallow. He's more uneasy about this than he's letting on, and I have a flash of regret.

"Good luck paying for college and making something of yourself," Esme snaps. "You're choosing her over your entire future."

"My college fund is quite padded, you should know that," Edward snaps back. "But thanks for your concern for my future. As long as I'm making money somehow, I should be happy, right? I'm sorry I find my happiness in love and not material things."

Heat creeps up my face. We haven't really used the 'L word' out loud yet; it's been on the tips of our tongues, but we've forced it back so far. I'm not sure if this really counts as a declaration, and then I decide this is more than that. He doesn't have to say he loves me when he's leaving his family so we can be together.

I reach back and take his hand, squeezing it tightly before letting it hang between us, openly. "Esme, I know you're not happy with me and you don't think I'm enough for Edward, but… I love him. And he loves me, I'm pretty sure. I'd think you'd just want him to happy however he could be. And just because I'm in love with Edward, it doesn't mean I'm going to forget about Alice. She's my friend. If our friendship survived the 'break up' you forced last November, then it could survive a real one. I'm sorry."

Alice is standing next to her mother at this point, staring at us with a wide-open mouth. "Oh my God! Bel_la!_ I _just _asked you about this!"

"We weren't ready to tell," Edward says, shrugging. He's more relaxed now, and when I look at him, I'm shocked to see him smiling. "Want to help me pack, Alice?"

She glares at us for a moment, and then jumps up and down as her personality does a total one-eighty. "Can I come with you?"

"Alice!" Esme barks, shock crossing her face.

"What? They've been miserable ever since November! You have control over your own life, Mom, do you really need to tell us how to live ours?" Alice asks, flaring up immediately at her mother's reproachful tone.

I want to groan—this is getting ugly, fast. Alice is famous for her temper and her sense of self-righteousness.

"Mary Alice Brandon Cullen! You can't go with him—he has nowhere to go anyways!" Esme argues.

"So? We have money—if we pool it, we can even buy a fucking house, Mom, thanks to your gratuitous allowance. We love you and all, and we're grateful for all you've given us, but we want our freedom. We want _love_. How can you deny us that? Romeo and Juliet both committed suicide because their families tried to get in their way! Is that what you want?!"

I'm glad to know my tutoring is helping Alice.

Esme sputters. "Romeo and Juliet are fictional characters! And idiots!"

Edward sighs and pulls me back to the piano bench, sitting down. I slide onto the floor between his legs, leaning my head against his thigh as his fingers comb through my hair. We're trapped her until Alice moves out of the doorway, so we may as well get settled.

"And you two!" Esme shrieks. Edward and I both jump. "You can't be serious!"

"I've never been more serious in my life," Edward promises solemnly.

"I-I-I—" I've never heard Esme lose control like this.

"Sorry, Mom. Coming, Alice?" Edward stands up, helping me with him. I readjust my bag and take his hand again, nervously as we brush past Esme toward his room.

Alice bounds after us, Esme still sputtering behind us.

As his younger sister opens his drawers, Edward turns to me and smiles, just a little. "That was exciting."

I laugh. "That's an understatement. I'm shaking!"

He chuckles, brushing his hair out of his face. Despite the World War Three that's about to go down in this family, he looks happier than he has in months.

As Alice starts chattering at us, scolding us for keeping secrets and then inquiring about our future plans, I'm not sure how to answer her.

I don't know what we'll have to face in the future—whether it be the next two minutes after Esme has recovered enough to continue yelling, or if it's three months from now—but I know I'll at least have two people I can depend on for anything.

Edward grins at me as he grabs his baseball bat and sets it next to the open suitcase on his bed, and Alice smacks my shoulder as she passes me to get her own stuff ready.

A smile starts to take form on my face, and then I'm laughing, and it's unstoppable, and I don't even care about Esme anymore. I'm happy, Edward's happy, Alice is happy. And really, that's all that matters—right now. Tomorrow might be a little different.


End file.
